Water and Diamonds
by Amadaun
Summary: After the battles are won, and the monsters are defeated, and the world’s gone back to normal, what happens to the hero who’s been to hell and hasn’t found her way back yet?


**A/N:** Probably not quite what you're expecting. (No funny! Le gasp!)

You see, I played the Main Quest through again, trying to get inspiration for another fanfic. And once it was through, I had my character searching for Nirnroots by Lake Rumare and I turned the camera to look over the lake...and well, the story kind of wrote itself then.

Um...yeah.

(And then my character went skinny-dipping until she got eaten by one of those uber-slaughterfish because I hadn't finished that quest yet.)

**Disclaimer:** Oblivion -- Not mine. Martin -- Not mine (Damn.) Only the poor, babbling, little narrator is mine, along with my version of events.

* * *

"I think I'll join the Psijics."

There was no answer, so she kicked her bare feet in the water for a little while, feeling like a little child. The moons were just rising over the Rumare, lighting a great white and red wobbly path over the dark ripples, not quite reaching the rock she sat on. Maybe if she kicked hard enough, she could wobble it more. She thought about that, and left it alone. She knew what it was like to be wobbly and broken, tossed about and stretched. The moonslight didn't need her to make it worse.

"You see, I understand that's what heroes do…once their heroing is over. They disappear. They get sick of it. And you certainly know that I'm sick of it. Sick, sick, sick. Sick to death. Sometimes I think that I should have stayed in the prison. It was dark, and quiet. No Daedra, no Empire and nobody wanting you to take care of whatever little thing that comes along and tries to kill them. Maybe a bit drafty, with the big hole in the wall, though."

She kicked a little harder anyway, watching the drops of water catch the air and the moonlight like little gems. They hung there for a moment, then pattered back into the lake to be swallowed up. Eaten alive. Back to the great, big, beautiful diamond that birthed them.

"I didn't like water this much before, you know. But then there were the gates. Too many gates. Too much red. Too much blood. Too many Daedra. Too, too many gates. All hot, blasted rock and lava. Dead men, burnt to a crisp. Horses that the scamps had eaten. Spines and spears and spells. Traps jumping out of the walls and ground. Stupid, stupid names for everything. Even the plants hated me there, you know. And no water. But then, you never had to go. You wouldn't know after all."

Another kick, and another shower of gemstones. Ripples not quite as random and unstable as she felt these days.

"You couldn't do this with lava. Burn your toes clean off. I almost did, though…a few times. A short, hot swim. It would only hurt for a moment before my lungs burnt away and my skin boiled off. That didn't seem that bad, at times. Anything other than another gate. My hair would have gone first, actually. And then my eyes. I saw that a few times. The Daedra would fall in the lava and their eyes would melt. Same as with a fireball. Watch the eyes run down the face. Like tears."

She slid off of her rock and picked up a handful of the drier sand, letting it run through her fingers. Watching it turn into sparking gems like the water. Like tears. Or like sugar.

"I tried that. Skooma, I mean. No good. Just dreams of fire, and blood, and fangs and red red red. And that was the _nice _part. I don't know how you did it. Or do it. The dreams that is, not the Skooma. Waking up screaming until your throat bleeds. And then waking up feeling nothing at all. That's worse. To look at people in the streets and know that they wouldn't be there except for you. And me. And I don't care anymore. Maybe you do. I don't know. You always cared. You cared too much."

The sand was sticking to her feet now, giving her shoes that should have been of diamonds. But they were just sand. Brown and plain and gritty. But still beautiful, because they weren't in armor, or ankle deep in blood. And they were wet – cool wet, not warm wet. She leaned back and held them up over her head and wriggled her toes. The sand fell into her mouth and crunched against her teeth and she rolled and spat it out.

"Even the Amulet was red. Red for godblood and queensoul. Everything is red. It all causes trouble. Great, red, bloody, glittering gem. Soul gem. Keeping great-great-great-great-whatever-grandma in the family. I wonder what it was like, spending thousands of years on some emperor's chest. Boring, I'll bet. Thanks a lot, Akatosh. I'd want to yell out instructions. Like 'What kind of escape route has fifty thousand little side passages that people can hide in' or 'Why didn't you just break down that little gate, you have two fully-armored Blades' or 'Don't just stand there, kill the megalomaniacal Altmer talking about how wonderful he is' or 'Don't smash me, there has to – to be a-another…'"

The wobbly path blurred until it was a wobbly cloud. Her voice was all ragged, like torn flesh. The diamonds weren't diamonds anymore, but bright, white, piercing lights that hurt her head and stung her eyes and burned her throat. She beat her fist against sand that had suddenly gone as hard as rock until some of the pain left her heart and went into her hand and she could talk again.

"Gods, if I hear one more 'maybe we should put more people into the prison, look what comes out of it' joke, I'm going to start slapping people, _champion _or not."

The word was a curse, but only the moons, the water, and one lone Nirnroot were there to hear it. Even the mudcrabs left her alone these days. She was surprised that the Nirnroot didn't pick up little white-thready roots and scuttle off across the sand. Only one person left to talk to, and he couldn't run away because he was in her skin and in her head and she couldn't even breathe without feeling the utter _absence _of him in the rest of the world.

She dug her fingers into the wet sand and built a little Oblivion Gate out of it, for no particular reason. Though, it was really more of a gloppy pile of sand that had smaller piles of sand around it. It sat there, looking gloppy, and not at all gate-ish, or menacing, much to her relief. But then her still-sore and wobbly eyes thought that they saw a flash of red, and the memories came back, and she slapped her hand down on the thing so hard that the wet sand splattered across her cheeks before she scooped the whole thing into her hand and flung it into the lake with a satisfying ploop.

"They don't want me in the Temple anymore, do you know that? They don't say it, but they look at me with knowing eyes, and knowing smiles, and they _don't _know! I tried to scare them by talking to the statue, but we both knew that you weren't there; and it was just a huge make-believe. And then I would cry, and they'd tiptoe around me. And whisper behind me, and politely ask if I needed anything. And I did… Oh Gods, I did…"

The tears were diamonds too, glistening for a heartbeat before they sank into the sand. And there were a lot of heartbeats. Her heart pounded against her ribs like it wanted to escape. Like it was a fish flopping around; trying, by sheer force of will and luck, to make it back to the water. Because it didn't belong in that empty, dry land. It belonged where it was cool and wet, and dark – where the water would caress every inch of skin that was screaming for touch.

The tears never vanished in the Temple of the One. They would just sit there, mocking, until she smeared them across the stone with her foot. Even then, she thought that she could see the paths where they had been. Out here, the diamonds would eat diamonds, and nobody would ask her what she needed.

"You do remember, don't you? What I wanted? I'd laugh when you worked so hard that you fell asleep on that damn damned book. Then you'd wake up with your hair all stuck to your face, and I'd laugh again and tell you to tie it back. And you never did, you stupid priest. So I made you tea instead, to keep you awake, and then yell at you to go to bed after even Baurus fell asleep. And I brought you things for the damn damned ritual. A-and I went into gate after gate to get guards to keep you safe, because Ocato decided he was going to have a stick up his ass the day I went to see him."

Remembering the gates made the sandy shoes feel hot and scratchy, so she scooted back down to the water to rinse off her toes. Then she rolled over to swoosh her fingers back and forth through the miniature waves of the lake. The ripples knotted around themselves like glittering ribbons, and her tears fell like gems onto silk.

"I'd always laugh, but you wouldn't. I couldn't understand. I'd seen the gates, and Oblivion, and eyes melting down into red and black armor, and I c-could still laugh. I always forgot that you'd seen it too. You were so broken and tired and sad…and I should have known that even Oblivion wasn't the whole reason. Even if I'd r-remembered the gates, I wouldn't have figured out the rest of it. And I wanted you to smile. I made an absolute pest of myself, trying to make you smile, didn't I? You finally did when I dumped snow down Jauffre's back. His eyes bugged out of his head, and he did that little jumpy dance, and we both laughed until we hurt. It was so worth having to muck out the stables after that."

She tried to giggle at the thought, but the laugh vanished as quickly as the sand had drunk the salty diamonds, and her lips wouldn't curl up. She curled up into a ball and rocked back and forth. Her words were starting to fall apart and dribble down her lips with the tears, and she was half-afraid that she would go with them.

"An – And then…I found out about S-Sanguine, and laughed at you again, because you were always so perfect and quiet, and it was easier to imagine Jauffre there than you. And you g-got even quieter, and you looked at me. And then I d-dared you, and you took the dare, and it hurt and it was red, but it was beautiful and you smiled!"

The tears were torrents now. She tried to hit the sand again, but this time it went softer with each blow, water rushing in to fill the cracks, and she had to stop because it reminded her of a giant bruise. Her hands had the same not-diamonds coating as her feet had before. She tried to wipe her face, only to get an eye full of sand.

Suddenly it was too much, and she half-crawled, half-ran, half-stumbled into the water. Three halves, because her skin was full to bursting with the tears and the leaping, dying fish. She was stretched and aching and the sand was too rough for skin that was as raw as her mind. She had to get the sand off. And the memories – both horrible and horribly, sweetly, wonderful – of heat and pain and blood. She had to get the memories away. Someway. _Any _way.

The water was cool and wet, but still painful and somehow not enough. So she dove deep, wrapped her arms around herself and _screamed _into the water. The scream that she never dared to use in the Temple, in front of the statue. The scream that she'd been holding inside since the very first gate at Kvatch, when she'd stepped out onto soil that was never meant for the mortal foot. The scream that held every moment of being in a place she should not have been, in a war that she should never have been a part of.

A scream for Menien, who'd never gotten out of that cage. A scream for Kvatch, and the shattered steeple. A scream for Baurus and Jauffre and the Blades, who'd lost four of royal blood in the space of a few hours, and now had no one to be loyal to. A scream for the Argonian she'd freed, only to have him cut down by the Mythic Dawn a moment later. A scream for the poor scamp-eaten horses, all white bone and confused eyes. A scream for Ocato, who was working to hold a crumbling Empire together. A scream for Farwil, trying so hard to be a hero without knowing what a horrible fate that was.

A scream for the terrified people of Bruma, who had to look down on a Great Gate, and trust that she would win when even she was sure that she wouldn't. A scream for all the guards who died to protect an Emperor they didn't know. A scream for Eldamil, who she wanted to hate, but couldn't, because he saved her at the cost of his own life, again and again. A scream for all the innocence and ignorance that she wanted so badly, but could never get back again.

And a million screams for the Emperor's bastard heir, betrayed by his own Gods, trapped in his own chapel, tortured by the Xarxes, so caught up in his own destiny that he'd actually _believed _it… For the man that he was and the Emperor he could have been. For the sad not-smile he gave her when she brought him tea. For the laughter she had finally coaxed from him, bringing life back into his battered soul. For the beautiful, dark, painful secrets he had shared with her until she shuddered and wept, totally overwhelmed. For the last desperate look he had given her before he went and shattered the Amulet – and with it her mind and everything that she had with him.

For the not-quite-yet love she had so desperately clung to and that had been ripped from her, leaving a gaping, bleeding hole in its wake.

The scream vibrated in her ears and filled her body and became bubbles that swirled around her in the water. She screamed until she had no breath left and then watched as it floated up – glittering, weightless diamonds in the murky water.

On the surface the bubbles floated about and popped soundlessly, one by one, releasing the scream out into the night air as a soft, tickling breath.

When the last one had been swallowed by the air and water, she too surfaced. She floated on her back in the wobbly white and red path, slowly breathing the air that had eaten her scream. She was lighter now. Still broken, but lighter. Not better, but not worse. If she had tried this before, she would probably have sunk to the bottom, never to come up again, the scream weighing her down, the fish floating silently in the water.

She held her hand up to the moons, watching water run down her arm like tears. When she spoke, her voice was a little rough – like the sand – and a little wobbly – like the water – but the words came out all right.

"I know why you didn't smile now. You lost yourself in that attack. All the pain of Kvatch became yours, you stupid priest. You kept it inside until I pulled it out. You didn't scream, but it was close enough, I guess. It released you, even more than putting snow down Jauffre's back. You didn't find yourself again until it started to go out instead of in."

Something brushed against her leg then, and the thought that it might be a slaughterfish sent her splashing out of the water and back up to the beach. She climbed back onto her rock, away from the sand, and looked back over the lake and the beautiful water, to the moons and beyond.

"I'm becoming a Psijic so I can find you again. You're not coming back, so I'll have to go to you. I'll do it somehow, because I know that you're up there, you stupid priest. I'm going to find you, and first I'm going to hit you, and tell you that I hate you. And then I'm going to make you laugh, and tell you that I missed you. And then, then I'm going to kiss you breathless and tell you that I love you. I promise."

She smiled a little, for the first time in forever, and shook herself until the air was full of diamonds.


End file.
